


If It Weren't You

by bibliomaniac



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Hate to Love, Light Angst, Multi, Reader-Insert, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6925477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliomaniac/pseuds/bibliomaniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SOULmates. They’re legend among humans but a well-known fact among monsters. Every SOUL has a perfect match, another SOUL to which it is drawn…</p><p>Unfortunately, nobody ever said the owners of those SOULs had to feel the same way.</p><p>(in which Sans is SOULmated to a human and hates it, the aforementioned human can’t help but be offended, and shenanigans ensue)</p><p>-OFFICIALLY ON HIATUS- (only until I get my crap together)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His first words to you are a heartfelt and resounding, “frick.”

Personally, you are too busy staring at the cartoonishly-shaped heart which had escaped from your chest and is performing some kind of happy dance with another blue heart thingy in between you and the skeleton monster, into whom you had just rather unceremoniously bumped. And summarily apologized to, thank you very much, you may be a klutz but you’re a klutz with manners—

It comes again, even louder and more desperate-sounding. “FRICK.”

This rouses you from your reverie, and you tear your eyes away from the spectacle, which is actually kind of charming, in order to address the skeleton with no small degree of irritation. “What?”

“this can’t be happening.”

You suppress your annoyance and humor the monster. Purely out of curiosity, of course. “What can’t?”

He looks at you with an expression resembling agony. “good gods, you mean…you don’t even…frick! i’m not doing this. i’m out.” He turns and starts to stomp away.

“Hey, isn’t this yours, though?” You call out politely. You had seen the blue cartoon heart come from him, too. You prod it for effect and he immediately falls to his knees, making a high-pitched moan that causes everybody on the street to look between you and him with shocked and disgusted faces. A mother covers her child’s ears and rushes away.

He struggles to his feet and storms back over to you, a bright cyan blush high on his cheekbones. “you can’t just do that!”

“Do what?” you ask, starting to blush yourself. You don’t have much experience with that sort of thing, much less interest, but that noise sounded kinda—

“you—agh! the SOULs, you can’t—in public—“ He’s tripping over his words, still blushing but obviously furious. 

“SOULs?” you inquire, completely lost. “Are you okay, dude? ‘Cause I didn’t think I bumped into you that hard, but—“

He drags his hand over his face. “do i seriously have to spell it out for you, human? these are our SOULs, the culmination of our very being. that little do-si-do they’re doing? that means they’ve found their match. you’re my SOULmate.”

You let that sink in for a bit. 

Later, you reflect that it might have been a bit offensive, but it’s hard to stop the incredulous laughter from bubbling forth. “That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard, random stranger. Anyway, this has been a blast and all, but I’m actually late, so—“

“yeah, too bad. you’re coming with me.”

And then there’s an aggressive hand on your wrist and everything is twisting and you’re in a very cozy-looking house that is definitely isn’t your own.

\--------------

You’ve never really had much to do with monsters. Like, you know they exist and all, but you’ve only ever seen them in passing. Sure, you saw the news when the monsters emerged from the Underground—everyone did—and you read the occasional articles about monster rights that a friend posted on HeadSpace, but you kept well enough to yourself and for the most part, as far as you know, the monsters did the same. You were honestly pretty satisfied with the arrangement. 

So you’re not exactly certain how you came to be in a living room full of monsters who are all staring at you.

Another skeleton is the first to speak up. “UM…SANS? WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT A HUMAN HERE? WE ALREADY HAVE ONE, IF YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED.”

The first skeleton, the short one, lets go of your wrist and starts pacing. “trust me, it wasn’t my idea.” He points violently at the two cartoon hearts, which are still prancing around without a care in the world.

A gasp arises from the assembled monsters. You’re still trying to process the situation, so you stay silent and inventory them. There’s a tall blue one that looks sort of fishy—like, literally, like a fish—and a yellow one that looks a little like a dinosaur and a goat-looking one and then…oh. That one just looks like a little kid. They’re fighting a delighted smile.

“Y-you mean—“ stutters out the yellow one. “It can’t—“

“that’s exactly what i thought!” growls out the first skeleton. “but—“

“Yes, it does appear to be a bonding display,” says the yellow one thoughtfully, adjusting their glasses and peering at the hearts. “But I never even thought—“

“i don’t really care what you thought! can you fix it?”

“Fix it? SOULmates aren’t really an issue that’s ever needed fixing—“

“but i can’t be SOULmated to a human! i mean…just look at it!” They both look at you, one anguished and one curious.

You’ve been staying quiet, but that makes you bristle. “I’m not an it, and I’m not your soulmate or whatever either. Also, for the record, kidnapping is a crime. And I really was late. Can I go now?”

They all stare again, and the blue one laughs raucously. “Go? You?”

You scowl. “Yes, go, me. I’m not sure what this business is—“ You gesture dismissively at the hearts—“But whatever it is, does it really warrant this kind of rude behavior?”

The goatish one gives the skeleton a disapproving look and says reproachfully, “They’re right, you know. Did you even bother explaining to them before you dragged them here?”

The skeleton flushes and mumbles, “well, sort of.”

“Sort of isn’t good enough.” They rise gracefully from the chair in which they’ve been sitting and walk over to you, offering their hand. “I’m sorry for Sans’ behavior. What’s your name?”

Their voice is soothing, and you calm down slightly, though you’re still glaring a bit. “_______.”

“I’m Toriel. Everybody, please introduce yourselves.” It sounds more like a command than a request.

“I-I’m Alphys,” supplies the yellow monster quickly. “Sorry for not introducing myself sooner.”

“Undyne,” lazily offers the fish one from their seat on the couch. “Nice to meetcha.”

“I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” yells the tall skeleton, leaping in front of you and shaking your hand excitedly. “IT IS A PLEASURE TO MAKE MY ACQUAINTANCE!”

The little kid signs with a grin, “I’m Frisk. I hope we can get to know each other better!”

You smile awkwardly at all of them, because again, klutz with manners. “Um, nice to meet you all—“

“why are we making friends instead of fixing this?” demands the first skeleton. Sans, maybe? “is nobody else concerned that i’ve SOULmated with a human?”

“Amused, maybe,” guffaws Undyne. “You would!”

“what the crap is that supposed to mean—“

Toriel silences them with a firm gaze. “Now, then, ________. Do you know what a SOUL is?”

You try to remember Sans’ words from earlier. “Uh…culmination of our being or something?”

“Yes, essentially. It’s what makes you you. Every living being has one. What you see before you now is your SOUL.” Toriel gestures to the hearts.

“Oh, okay.” It would’ve been a lot simpler if Sans had just said that instead of mumbling nonsense.

“And,” she continues pointedly, “While I’m not sure about humans, every monster SOUL has a mate. It’s a SOUL that it’s irrevocably drawn to, its perfect match in every way. When your SOUL escapes your chest and does…well…that,” (she looks at the hearts—SOULs—again), “It means that it’s found its mate.”

You consider this. “And…that blue one…that’s Sans’ SOUL?”

“Yes.”

“So…” A growing horror gnaws at you. “Frick.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sans had dreamed about his SOULmate when he was just a babybones. He never really wondered what they looked like—the variety of monsters Underground honestly left too many options to even bother fantasizing—but he wondered what they’d be like. Would they be nice? Would they be funny? Surely, if they were SOULmated with him, they’d have to have a pretty excellent sense of humor. And they’d have to love Paps too, of course, and maybe they’d like science too, and maybe—

When he got older he stopped dreaming, because life was honestly hard enough without worrying about when he’d find his perfect match. Or, well. His SOUL’s perfect match, which admittedly wasn’t quite the same thing. Just because two SOULs got along well didn’t mean the monsters that held them felt the same way. He’d heard horror stories before. But for the most part, a SOULmate was a boon, a companion. And sure, he wanted that. Who wouldn’t? But he had other stuff to concentrate on.

And eventually, many years later, when he knew pretty much everybody Underground and pretty much everybody knew him…well. He wasn’t operating under any illusions. So what? He didn’t need anyone anyway. He slowly started resenting the very idea, because even though he sort of knows he’s being ridiculous, he can’t forgive his SOULmate for never finding him. What, is he not worth it? Do they just not care? He imagined again, this time thousands of different reasons for why he deserved to be left alone when everybody else had someone.

But for his SOULmate to be human...that was something he had never imagined. Would never have imagined. It’s never happened before, to his knowledge. Monsters bonded with monsters and that was it. So yeah, maybe he’s being a little childish about it, but he can’t help but be peeved at the cosmic joke the universe appeared to be playing on him. He may have a stellar sense of humor, but he’s pretty sure this isn’t actually funny.

“—e and Alphys here are SOULmates,” Undyne is saying proudly. “Didn’t know it for a while, though.” She laughs. “We actually were dating before we found out.”

“The bonding display requires, um, physical contact,” Alphys explains, blushing. “And I don’t really like touching people much, so…”

“Wow,” you’re saying, eyes wide and nodding. “Um, congratulations, I guess?”

“Thanks.” They beam at each other and Sans contemplates throwing something at them. You’ve already moved on, though, and are turning to Toriel. “How about you?”

Toriel freezes, and Sans vehemently interjects, “you can’t just ask that!”

“Oh. Sorry—“ You’re retreating, shrinking into yourself, but he can’t bring himself to care. Your SOUL pulsates as if it’s taken a hit, and his SOUL immediately moves in close as if it’s attempting to comfort yours. He rolls his eyes. Disgusting.

Toriel, on the other hand, is smiling gently and patting you on the shoulder. “It’s all right, dear. My ex-husband is my SOULmate.”

Your mouth opens into a perfect ‘o’. “Really? That can happen?”

“Yes. SOULmates don’t always get along. The SOULs match, not the carrier,” she says, echoing his previous thoughts. 

You look speculatively at him, and he looks away to avoid making eye contact.

“But,” she adds, “We still stay in close contact. We tried staying away from each other for quite some time, and our SOULs were all the weaker for it. SOULmates are stronger together.” Toriel looks meaningfully at Sans, and he flushes.

“MY SOULMATE IS A ROBOT GHOST,” Papyrus breaks the silence. “WE’RE JUST FRIENDS, THOUGH.”

“I think I get it,” you say, chewing on your lower lip in a way that Sans refuses to admit is kind of endearing. “So SOULmates can be romantic, platonic, or even have no relationship at all, as long as there’s proximity. And, uh…do they have to do, like…other things?” You start fidgeting.

“What kind of other things?” asks Toriel carefully.

“Well…” Your face turns red. “I mean…I’ve read stuff before, about soulmates. The human kind, I mean.”

“Oh, really?” Toriel inquires. “I’d love to read what human scholars have to say about the subject—“

“No, you wouldn’t!” you squeak, turning (if possible) even more red. “You really, really wouldn’t!”

“Okay?” Toriel is obviously confused, but she drops the subject.

“A-anyway! The point is, in these stories, sometimes soulmates have to do. Stuff.”

“LIKE BOARD GAMES?”

“No! Um! Like…” Your face still burning, you lean over to whisper something in Toriel’s ear.

She immediately starts coughing. “Good heavens! What a…creative idea.”

“So no?” you ask, relief starting to spread across your face.

“No, of course not.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” you say, sagging into your seat.

“That said, SOULs are sometimes used in such activities,” Toriel continues, glancing awkwardly at Papyrus, who luckily doesn’t appear to be listening anymore. “They are very, ah, sensitive.”

You stiffen again. “Like…so you’re saying if I accidentally…” You whisper into Toriel’s ear again.

She reddens, but starts giggling, peeking at Sans. “Yes, that would be the reason why he reacted that way.”

Sans can’t help but feel left out. “um, guys? i’m glad there’s, like, bonding going on here, but we still need to figure out how to solve this problem.”

“What problem?” Your head is tilted like some kind of puppy, and it absolutely isn’t cute at all.

“this whole SOULmating thing, obviously.”

You frown. “Why exactly is us being SOULmates a problem?”

“well, for one thing, you’re a human.”

You raise your chin defiantly. “You’re a skeleton and I’m not getting pissy about it.”

“why not? wanna jump my bones?” he jokes, and immediately regrets it. Your face resembles that of someone who’s just eaten something particularly disgusting at a dinner party and is trying to be polite about it.

“…No.”

“it was just, uh, just a little skeleton joke, not…”

“Yes, I get it.” You don’t look particularly amused by his awesome pun.

He clears his throat. “yeah. well…anyway.” So much for his SOULmate having a good sense of humor. “um…we also don’t even know each other.”

“We can get to know each other.” You’re starting to look a little irritated.

“i don’t really want to get to know you, though. so far i don’t like you.”

“Sans!” Toriel scolds, shocked, but your face is carefully impassive, your tone clipped and biting. 

“Well, you’re not making the best first impression either, but honestly, it doesn’t sound like we have much of a choice. So why don’t you suck it up and deal with it?”

Sans crosses his arms, buries his face into the fluff of his hoodie. “i don’t do anything i don’t want to do.”

You scoff. “What are you, five? Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. Like it or not, I’m your SOULmate now, and—“

“but i don’t want a SOULmate! i don’t want you!”

The ensuing silence is deafening. Your SOUL flinches and slowly makes its way back into your chest, his reluctantly doing the same. Toriel flies over and hisses, “Sans, apologize—“ but he shakes her off. He’d only spoken the truth, after all. The time when he wanted a SOULmate is long past. 

It takes a long time for you to get up from your seat, that emotionless look on your face again. “Fine.”

“No, not fine!” protests Toriel. “You two can’t be apart so early on in the bonding process, it’ll—“

You raise a hand to silence her. “I’m not going to stay where I’m not wanted. It’s been lovely getting to know you all.” Your eyes flick over to Sans. “Mostly.”

And then you walk out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a bit hard to write for multiple reasons but hey it's done


	3. Chapter 3

It takes Sans about three days before he admits he may have overestimated his ability to deal constructively with what his SOUL is processing as a bonding rejection.

Bonding rejection is extremely dangerous for monsters. It doesn’t happen often because few circumstances warrant it, but when it does, it’s pretty brutal. Sans spends those three days in a progressively worsening state, overtaken by extreme pain, fever, and depression. His magic goes haywire, his SOUL beats against his chest in a vain attempt to make its way to yours. He’s sure if he had any idea where you were he’d be there already regardless of his feelings on the matter. 

But he grits his teeth and bears it, because this is his choice, and he’s a big skeleton who can manage the consequences of his actions.

At least, that’s what he thinks until he hits on Toriel.

Toriel has been a blessing, staying over at Sans’ and Papyrus’ house despite her disapproval, always ready with some soup and a cold cloth. Every day she asks him what he needs, and every day she waits for him to admit he needs you, and every day he says “some water, thanks” or “i’d honestly kill for some monster candy right now”. But it’s the end of the third day, and he’s hurting and his SOUL is aching, so this time when Toriel asks what he needs before leaving for the day, he groans out, “share with me, please.”

He honestly doesn’t even realize he’s said it until he looks at her face and sees her frozen, polite smile.

“oh, uh—um—“ 

Crap. There’s really no delicate way around having just propositioned your best friend. SOUL sharing is an extremely private process done exclusively between SOULmates, involving the literal exchange of SOUL matter. Its main purpose is bonding, but it also has a comforting and restorative function. While the ritual itself is nonsexual, asking someone to whom you are not SOULmated to share with you is akin to asking a complete stranger for kinky, dirty sex. “what i meant was—“

“I know exactly what you meant,” she says in a stern voice that makes him wince. “Sans, honestly? If you had just let your poor SOULmate be you wouldn’t be in this bad of a state. They were perfectly willing to give things a go and you pushed them away, and for what? Do you have a death wish or something? Because that’s the track you’re headed down, and I think we both know that.”

He buries his head into his pillow. “yeah, i know.”

“I’m not just going to watch you die,” she says fiercely. “Do you know how worried we all are? How worried Papyrus is?”

Ouch. “low blow, Tori.”

“I don’t really care if it gets you thinking sensibly. You need your SOULmate, Sans.”

He peeks out at Toriel to find her glaring at him. “but they’re gone,” he finally says, hating himself for sounding so weak. 

Toriel pulls a cell phone out of the pocket of her dress proudly. “Are they, now?”

Sans gapes.

“I got their number before they left the other day. If you promise not to chase them away this time, I’ll call them.”

He contemplates, and when a particularly strong wave of pain rolls across him, he caves. “fine.”

When he next wakes, you’re staring at him, frowning, sat in a chair next to his bed. As soon as his eyes open, his SOUL jubilantly rushes from his chest and bumps into your SOUL, which is bobbing peacefully in the center of the room.

He hates to admit it, but he’s already starting to feel better.

“hey,” he croaks.

You raise an eyebrow. “Hey? Seriously?”

“it’s a customary greeting between two individuals,” he quips. “if you prefer, i could change it up. hello, hi, salutations—“

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “You’re obnoxious. Are you sure you’re actually sick?”

“fairly.” Squirming around slightly, he eventually says in a small voice, “thanks for coming.”

“Well, Toriel led me to believe there was a life on the line. And I’m not a jerk, unlike some of the people in this room.”

Sans pauses uncomfortably. “i probably deserve that.”

“You definitely deserve that,” you affirm. “Look, do you think I was ecstatic about the idea of having some random SOULmate either? I didn’t even know it was a thing, and all of a sudden I’m supposed to get all close and personal with someone I don’t know who doesn’t seem to like me. And I’m not trying to make out like I’m some kind of saint either, because I’m not, but I was at least willing to work it out.”

“i never said i was a good person.”

“You don’t have to be. You can be a rotten person without being self-sacrificial.” You sigh, looking away from him and up at the SOULs, which couldn’t look happier to be reunited if they tried. “Anyway, I’m here because Toriel said you gave your permission, but like I said, I’m not going to force myself anywhere. As soon as the initial bonding period is over and you’re out of harm’s way, I’ll leave.”

“you don’t…” Sans coughs, his throat suddenly dry. “you don’t have to go.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want a SOULmate?” you counter pointedly.

“i don’t. i used to, but…frick, do you know what it’s like to see everyone you know find the person they’re destined to be with and you’re just left alone? i waited for so long, but nobody ever came for me.” Part of him is shouting at himself for revealing such personal things, but the rest of him feels comfortable with you. Safe.

You’re quiet for a moment. “No, I don’t know what that’s like. But you also have to realize that I sort of had an excuse. I wasn’t there.”

“yeah, i know. but i didn’t know that.”

“I guess.” The silence stretches between you again, until you ask curiously, “How long is ‘so long’?”

Sans considers. “like, a few hundred years.”

Your eyes nearly bug out and you lean forward. “Whoa, hold up. I beg your fricking pardon?”

“monsters live a lot longer than humans do. especially skeletons. being that we’re undead and all,” he waves off dismissively. “you stop counting, but i’m around five hundred.”

“Holy crap, you’re ancient!”

Sans shrugs as best as he can laying down. “well, yeah. if it makes you feel better, in human terms i’m probably mid-thirties.”

“No wonder you’re such a grumpy old man,” you say wonderingly, ignoring him. “Hey, say ‘get off my lawn’. Say ‘and I would have gotten away with it too if it weren’t for you meddling kids’. Tell me how you walked uphill both ways in the snow to school as a youngster—“

“ha ha, you’re hilarious. please, continue to make the funny jokes.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “I’m funnier than you are. Skeleton puns, seriously?”

“skeleton puns are the pinnacle of humor and i’m not surprised that you don’t understand that,” Sans sniffs primly. “you probably don’t like fart jokes either.”

“Got it in one. They’re infantile.”

“says the literal infant.”

“You know, it makes sense you like bathroom humor, given you are yourself an old fart.”

“look, it knows how to use its words like a grown-up! bet you it’s potty-trained too—“

“At least one of us here is a grown-up, because you are the most immature old man I’ve ever met—“

“do you make the acquaintance of many old men?” Sans asks sweetly.

“All right, all right!” interrupts Toriel with a strained smile. “How about we suspend the bickering for a while and have lunch? I have grilled cheese sandwiches. Frisk’s idea.”

You light up, and Sans can’t help but mutter, “kid.”

“Fossil,” you mumble back.

But, for all you’re bandying insults about, both of you are grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'ALL KNOW I CANT MAKE ANGST LAST LONG but. we're not completely out of the woods yet B)
> 
> downright plagiarized the soul sharing from my other fic whoops


	4. Chapter 4

“So, _______, you’re looking surprisingly…well,” Toriel says diplomatically when everyone is sat down around the table.

You look up from a mouthful of grilled cheese. “Huh? Uh, thanks?”

“I mean…not sick or anything.”

You shrug. “Not that I know of. I have been having these awful cramps, but I’m actually feeling better now.” You hold up your grilled cheese like a prize. “Must be these.”

“Must be.” Toriel’s eyes dance with amusement, but Sans, for one, is feeling a little peeved. He nearly dies from bonding rejection—admittedly his fault, but whatever—and you get cramps? He supposes it must be your SOUL; human SOULs are made of stronger stuff than are monsters’, everybody knows that. But a dark part of him wishes you had been in as bad a state as he was.

That said, he can be grateful that everything is past tense, now. He’s not quite at a hundred percent, but he’s getting there.

You interrupt his thoughts with a brusque, “Hey, if you’re not going to eat that I will.”

He looks you dead in the eye as he pours the contents of an entire ketchup bottle over the sandwich.

“Gross!”

“you can still have it if you want,” he offers, smirking.

“No thank you, weirdo.” You make a face at your empty plate.

“You can have mine,” suggests Frisk, signing slowly so you can understand. 

You’re immediately all smiles again. “Aw, nah, kid, I couldn’t do that to you.”

“but you could do it to me?” asks Sans incredulously.

“Easily,” you sniff. “I don’t think you understand the grilled cheese hierarchy, here.”

“please, elaborate,” he says sarcastically.

You point at him. “I know you’re not being serious, but I’m gonna give it to you anyway just to irritate you. Now, obviously, Frisk is at the top. They’re a growing kid and they need their nutrition.”

“okay,” Sans concedes. “i’ll give you that one.” 

“Thanks. Next up is Toriel, because she made the food and therefore has first dibs. Then comes me, because I’m the guest, then there’s you, all the way at the veeeeeery bottom.” 

“hey! you should be at the bottom, not me.”

“Excuse you? Why?”

“these old bones need calcium. would you really deny an old man his prescription dairy?”

Your lips twitch. “I’m like at least ninety percent certain that isn’t a thing.”

“are you willing to risk that?” Sans asks solemnly. “are you willing to condemn your elder to a life of osteoporosis and bone fractures all because you wanted another bite of grilled cheese?”

The corners of your lips curve. “Depends on the grilled cheese.”

Sans pretends to wipe away a tear. “you’re cold, pal. ice cold.”

You throw up a peace sign happily. “That’s me!”

“All right, children. I can just make more,” says Toriel, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, for two grown—“

“Overgrown—“ 

“says the pipsqueak—“

“I’m taller than you!”

“Individuals,” Toriel speaks over you, glancing sternly at both you and Sans, “You’re both being rather juvenile.”

“Aw, we’re just having fun, Toriel,” you complain good-naturedly, clapping Sans on the back. A jolt of—something—goes through him, and he stiffens. “We’re—“

“don’t touch me,” he snaps, and shoves your hand off him.

When he looks at you, your eyes are wide and hurt.

“Oh. Okay,” you mumble, and put both of your hands on your lap. “Sorry.”

“no, it’s just—“ He hesitates. “yeah. just don’t touch me, please.”

He can’t tell you that the feeling of your hands on him felt more right than anything he’s ever experienced. He can’t say that if you touch him now, he’ll never want you to stop.

The atmosphere after that is a lot less playful and a lot more awkward. You offer to take all the plates into the kitchen to wash them, and when Toriel protests, you manhandle all of them away anyway and skip away laughing. Frisk insists on helping, and you get them a stool and a towel so that they can dry the dishes after you’ve rinsed them. You and Frisk seem to be getting along well, you asking questions and Frisk answering with nods or shakes of their head, given that their hands are occupied. He watches you until he sees Toriel raising an eyebrow pointedly at him.

“What was that about?” she asks as soon as the water is running, covering the sound of their conversation.

“what do you mean?”

Toriel levels him with a firm look. “I’m pretty sure you know what I mean. You two were getting along so well until they touched you.”

“maybe i just don’t like being touched by strangers,” he says lightly.

“I’ve seen you interact with strangers before, Sans. You do just fine with touch. So what is it about ________?”

He looks away, back into the open doorway, where you’re giggling about something or other at the sink. “it felt…weird, is all.”

“Weird bad or weird good?”

“good,” he admits reluctantly. 

“Sans, that’s just a reaction to touching your SOULmate. It’s supposed to happen. Physical contact strengthens the bond, you know that—“

“that’s just it! i don’t want to strengthen the bond because i don’t want the bond!”

Toriel frowns. “But I thought—you asked them to come over—“

“because i didn’t want to die, yeah. that doesn’t mean i’ve accepted this whole thing. but the worst part is, the more time i spend around them, the more i want to accept it. i can’t hate them, and i hate it. i hate that this SOULmate thing is messing with my mind.”

Neither Sans nor Toriel notice that the water has turned off.

Toriel sighs. “Have you ever considered that maybe you just actually like them, SOULmate or no?”

He scowls. “why would i? they’re a brat.”

“If you’re going to trash talk me, don’t leave me out.” You’re standing in the doorway, Frisk behind you with a somewhat horrified expression. Your tone is even, but your fists are clenched. “I’ve got material you wouldn’t believe.”

Toriel blanches. “_______, he didn’t mean—“

“Yeah, he did. It’s funny how I almost thought we were—“ You catch yourself, staring down at your feet stonily. “Whatever. Look, I get I’m not what you wanted.” You look up, and your eyes are narrow and flinty. “But I’m what you’ve got, so fricking deal with it.”

“that’s not what i—“

“You know what, I’m actually not interested in your platitudes or your apologies, but thanks,” you sneer. “Toriel, will there be any adverse effects if I leave for today?”

“No, but—“

“All right. See you tomorrow.”

This time, you slam the door behind you. The sound reverberates around the living room, and Sans winces.

He’s not sure whether it’s the SOUL bond making him feel this way or not, but either way, he feels awful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sans for petes sakes
> 
> more angst!!! featuring dramatic exit pt. 2


	5. Chapter 5

“BROTHER, YOU ARE NOT HANDLING THIS VERY WELL.”

Sans shrinks away from Papyrus’ disapproving tone and mumbles, “yeah, i know.”

He can feel Papyrus looking at him thoughtfully for a moment longer before he asks, “DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN METTATON AND I FIRST MET?”

“yeah. your SOULs came out and he pretty much immediately asked you if you’d come home with him, and you thought he meant to watch movies and i had to rescue you.”

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS DOES NOT REQUIRE RESCUING. BUT, YES, OTHER THAN THAT, THAT IS AN ACCURATE REPRESENTATION OF THE EVENT.”

Sans pauses. “so is that meant to tell me something? because—“

“WHAT YOU DIDN’T SEE WAS AFTER THAT, WHEN I TOLD HIM ABOUT MY ORIENTATION. HE WAS VERY DISAPPOINTED.”

Sans feels, not for the first time, a flash of dislike for Papyrus’ SOULmate. “that’s his problem. being aro ace is perfectly normal—“

“I KNOW. BUT THE POINT IS, HE HAD SPENT HIS ENTIRE LIFE DREAMING OF SOMETHING THAT I COULDN’T GIVE HIM.” Papyrus looks off into the distance. “AT FIRST, I WISHED IT HAD NEVER HAPPENED AT ALL. THAT I NEVER MET HIM, I MEAN.”

“why?”

“I GUESS I RESENTED HIM A LITTLE FOR PUTTING ME IN A DIFFICULT SITUATION. I AM VERY GREAT, AFTER ALL, BUT NOT BEING ABLE TO GIVE HIM WHAT HE WANTED MADE ME FEEL NOT SO GREAT. I DIDN’T LIKE FEELING THAT WAY. I THOUGHT IF WE HAD JUST STAYED APART THINGS WOULD BE BETTER.”

Sans can see how this relates now, sort of. “so…how did you fix it, then?”

“WE TALKED ABOUT IT.”

Sans rolls his eyes. Seriously? That’s the magic solution Papyrus was trying to get him to? “Pap—“

“I TOLD HIM I DIDN’T MIND IF HE DATED OTHER PEOPLE, AND HE TOLD ME WE COULD BE FRIENDS. AND EVERYTHING WAS FINE.”

“but—“

“I ASKED HIM ABOUT IT A WHILE AGO. WHETHER HE WISHES HE HAD SOMEBODY ELSE. AND HE TOLD ME THAT HE WOULDN’T GIVE UP MEETING ME FOR ALL THE FANS IN THE WORLD.” There’s a small, quiet smile on Papyrus’ face. “I THINK I FEEL THE SAME WAY.”

Sans huffs. “bro, you know i’m happy for you, but you don’t know that the same thing will happen here. not all SOULmates are meant to be together like that.”

“HOW WILL YOU KNOW UNLESS YOU TRY?”

“what if i don’t want to try?” he counters.

“THEN I GUESS THAT’S YOUR DECISION. BUT I THINK IT’S A BAD ONE. LOOK, YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO BE TOGETHER FOR THE NEXT FEW WEEKS ANYWAY. HOW ABOUT YOU JUST POSTPONE DECIDING AND HAVE FUN?”

Sans considers. “i could do that.”

“GOOD. THEN DO IT.” Papyrus nods decisively. “SIMPLE AS THAT.”

Sans doesn’t think it’s actually ‘simple as that’, but he’s tired of arguing, so he shuts up and lets Papyrus launch into a tale about the stray kitten he found on the street today.

The next morning, he can’t stop himself from pacing in front of the doorway. Toriel isn’t around, but she texted him this morning that you’d be coming around nine. But what if you don’t come? He could have really screwed things up for himself, he—

The doorbell rings and he opens the door sheepishly. 

Immediately, your SOULs rush out to greet each other, but your own greeting is much less enthusiastic. The look on your face is indiscernible. “Hello.”

“i thought you might not come,” he blurts out.

Your eyes narrow. “Of course I came. Can I come in?”

He realizes that he’s blocking your entrance and gets out of the way awkwardly. “so, um—about yesterday—i was a total douche, and—“

“Yes, you were.”

“well—yeah. and i was thinking, or—well, Papyrus was saying—“

“You got help from your little brother?” Your lips are twitching again, not that he’s looking at your lips or anything. 

“he’s very helpful,” Sans says defensively. “anyway, i just—the point is, i’m willing to give this a go if you are. like, being friends. i figure we can either be miserable and hate each other for the next few weeks or we can try to be civil, at least.”

Your face is still impassive. “Revolutionary.”

He scowls. “look, i’m—i already told you, all right? i’m not a good person. i’m selfish, and i like having things my way, and this whole thing isn’t what i wanted. but—you’re right, and Toriel is right, and Papyrus is right. i should deal with it. so…here’s me, dealing with it.”

“How can I be sure you won’t flip out on me again?”

“short answer? you can’t.”

You sigh, but don’t say anything, bringing your hand up to run it through your hair. Finally, you grumble, “Fair enough. All right then. Truce.”

This takes him a second to parse. “wait, but aren’t you mad at me?”

You make your way over to the couch and plop down on it, which is a bit presumptuous but whatever. “I was, yeah. Still am a bit. But it’s not like you said anything that wasn’t true, and anyway, I get it. I’m sure I’d react similarly if I saw things the same way you did.”

“and how do you see things?” Sans sits gingerly down on the couch a careful distance from you, and you eye him.

“I got really sick when I was a kid.”

“oh, is it storytime now?” Sans asks sarcastically.

You frown. “Shut up, you asked. I won’t go into the details because it requires a bit of knowledge about human biology, but basically I needed something from a stranger and they gave it to me and it saved my life. This stranger—I still don’t know them, but they were my perfect match, or about as perfect as you can get in that business anyway. Ten out of ten.”

“your point?”

“I figure this is about the same thing, right? You’re my match and this is like a treatment, except this time we both have something to give. The way Toriel explained it, it’s not like we’re being forced to love each other or even like each other. It’s just a mutually beneficial arrangement in which the only cost is proximity.”

“that’s a very…practical way of seeing it.”

You tilt your head. “Is it wrong?”

“i guess not, just…like, yeah, those are the bare bones of it, but Toriel probably didn’t explain that there’s this whole culture surrounding SOULmates with monsters. even if it’s not precisely accurate, monsters equate SOULmates with, like, destiny. you wait your whole life to find the person who’s meant for you. it’s supposed to be something special.”

“You’re saying bumping into a stranger on the street isn’t special enough for you?” you quip.

He ignores you, continuing, “and i’m gonna bet that Toriel didn’t mention that the bond can force you to like somebody else. it’s only for the first few weeks, to prevent bonding rejection or whatever, but it does happen.”

You consider that, tapping your fingers on your chin thoughtfully. “Interesting. The SOULs have a self-preservation instinct.”

It is interesting, but that’s not the point. “that’s all you have to say?”

You exhale slowly, and your fists are clenched again, like you’re trying to calm yourself down. “What do you want me to say? Yeah, this whole thing is messed up, but what the crap am I supposed to do about it? Look, your whole me versus the world thing is admirable and all, but I can’t do that if I want to get by. I used to spend so much time trying to control everything, trying to make everything right, and you know where it got me? Fricking nowhere, thanks. Once I realized that I couldn’t control anything, once I realized life didn’t give a crap what I wanted, things got so much easier. I’m not saying I’m right, I’m not saying it’s a perfect solution, but I’m not going to let you make me feel bad for not having an anxiety attack, either. I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime. I’m trying to make the best out of an awful situation, and it sounds like you’re finally on the same page, so how about we both just relax and watch some crappy fricking daytime television?” Your voice has been steadily rising, but at the end of your monologue you appear to realize that you’re shouting and awkwardly unclench your fists, nestling back into the couch cushions and looking at your lap.

He’s not sure whether he’s looking at you in awe or terror. Maybe both. “…okay.”

You huff. “Good. Because there’s a marathon of these ancient Disney Channel original movies that I wanted to catch, and I know for a fact the one about the house that tries to kill its owners with motherly love is about to come on.”

He reaches for the remote, but can’t stop himself from commenting, “that sounds terrible.”

“Your face is terrible, and the movie is amazing. Now turn on the television.”

“yessir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love smart house (it was between smart house and pixel perfect, which is also amazing)
> 
> all right now we are out of the metaphorical woods
> 
> this chapter is super discombobulated bc it was rly difficult for me to write but. whatever. its out there now. no takebacks


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: food

When Papyrus comes home from work, he finds Sans leaned towards the television, obviously very invested in whatever is going on. He’s complaining about Disney Channel’s ‘dubious grasp of even the most basic of scientific principles’.

“This was the twenty-first century,” you say dryly, “and it’s a for-TV movie. What exactly were you expecting?”

“well, a guy can hope at the bare minimum that the Internet isn’t represented as a physical space.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Creative liberty. And yet you don’t complain that the hologram went walking in the comatose girl’s brain like it was just a Tuesday stroll?”

“i was getting to it!” 

“YOU TWO ARE BEING CORDIAL,” Papyrus comments. 

You startle, but Sans just waves lazily. “hey, Pap. how was work today?”

“ADEQUATE. THERE WAS AN INCIDENT WITH A CARP.”

Your mouth forms into a perfect ‘o’. “What kind of incident?”

“I’D RATHER NOT TALK ABOUT IT,” he says delicately, which means it really must have been something. Sans makes a mental note to ask him about it when it’s just the two of them. “ANYWAY, IT IS AROUND TIME FOR DINNER. HUMAN, WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY?”

You hesitate. “Well…I’ve honestly already been here for quite a while, plus I have some leftovers at home calling my name.”

“AND YOU CAN HEAR THEM ALL THE WAY OVER HERE?”

You laugh, surprised and delighted. Sans ignores the little tug at his SOUL that says he wishes he were the one that made you sound like that. “Nah, they left me a voicemail. So I’ll let you two do your…thing. Dinner thing.”

“all right. have fun with your mouthy leftovers.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow. Bye, Papyrus.”

You duck out and leave Sans to Papyrus’ thoughtful gaze. It’s the one that always makes Sans squirm.

Finally, he breaks, and demands, “jeez, Pap, what?”

“HONESTLY, I EXPECTED YOU TO TAKE AT LEAST A FEW MORE DAYS.”

“to do what?” He sort of knows what, but he’s going to make Papyrus work for it anyway.

“TO PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR PELVIS.” Papyrus looks at him levelly. “YOU’RE VERY STUBBORN SOMETIMES.”

“who says i have?” he asks, because again, work for it. “the only thing you saw was us arguing about movies.”

“I KNOW BECAUSE I HAVE KNOWN YOU FOR A LONG TIME, AND I AM ALSO A MASTER PEOPLE PERSON. AND DOUBLE ALSO BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T FROWNING AND MAKING RUDE COMMENTS ABOUT THEM.”

“fine,” Sans concedes. “we talked. i agreed that it’d probably be better for both of us if we tried to get along. i took your advice. happy?”

“ARE YOU?” Papyrus inquires, looking at Sans shrewdly. “THAT’S MORE IMPORTANT.”

Sans sighs. “i don’t know, Pap. i don’t think so. but i’ll get there.”

“FAIR ENOUGH.”

Sans nods slowly, then changes the subject. “so, carp?”

Papyrus takes to the subject change with alacrity. “WELL, IT TURNS OUT THAT THE CARP HARNESS UNDYNE AND I DEVELOPED HAD A FEW MINOR FLAWS…”

\-------------

As promised, you come over the next day, and the day after that, and after that. It’s a week later now and you and Sans are back on the couch, bickering comfortably, him sprawled out with his legs on your lap.

“all i’m saying is, if a movie is bad it’s bad. you can enjoy it regardless of intent.”

“But it’s better if they weren’t trying,” you argue. “It makes it funnier.”

“are you also going to say art is better if the artist doesn’t intend it to be art?”

“Well, obviously not, but that’s different.“

“is not.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ugh. I’m too tired to get into a conversation about artistic intent. Move your bony legs—“

“they’re literally bones, _______, that’s not an original observation—“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, point is I’m hungry and I’m willing to bet you are too and if I’m on this couch I can’t make either of us lunch.”

He sits up, swinging his legs off the couch. “you make food?”

“Sometimes. Don’t sound so surprised, bonebrain.”

“i’m pretty sure i explained to you that i have an incorporeal neural mesh, you fleshy abomination,” he retorts, but gets up to follow you into the kitchen. “what are we having?”

“Dumplings. Take forever, but they’re delicious. I brought over the ingredients, don’t worry.” 

“so that’s what was in your mysterious bag.”

“Duh. What did you think I was storing in the fridge?”

“figured it was something premade, is all.” He hops up onto the stool across the kitchen counter and watches you as you start prepping the food. Your movements are practiced, your face relaxed. It’s a good look on you, he thinks.

This past week has been kind of weird for him. Because, well…he likes you. You’re fun, kind, witty, and you take a lot more of his crap than he probably deserves. And, apparently, you cook. But he can’t stop the nagging feeling in the back of his skull that tells him it’s the bond doing it. Not that he likes you because of the bond, because you’re likable enough without it, but that you’re only bothering with him because you’re bonded too. After all, what redeeming qualities does he have? He spent the first few days with you being a complete jerk, and he’s not totally sure he’s gotten any better. Why would fate or biology or whatever the crap else drives this choose him for you? Why not someone else?

“Yo, skullface, I asked you a question.”

He snaps out of his thoughts. “huh?”

“Wanna help me fold these? It’s sort of nice. I mean, tedious, but I have a thing for monotonous, repetitive stuff.”

“oh, uh. sure.” He watches you model the way to fold the dumpling wrappers, then mimics your movements. His turn out a bit sloppier, but you’re right that the action is kind of nice. It’s actually pretty relaxing.

“hey…what are you doing here?” he finally asks.

You stiffen almost imperceptibly, a half-folded dumpling in your hand. With impressive calm, you say, “I was under the impression I was making lunch.”

“no, no, not like that.” Sans hesitates, trying to find the correct words. “like, why are you staying with me?”

You look at him, eyebrows slightly drawn together—whether it’s in confusion or anger, he can’t tell. “Well, I have to, don’t I?”

“ah. well…yeah. never mind.”

He pushes down the voice that says that he wishes you were staying because it's what you wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the movie mentioned this chapter is, of course, pixel perfect (since i left it out last chapter)
> 
> im so sorry this took so long! i was over on my other story trying to get that tied up and then i started a new job and then i got sick and blah blah blah whatever point is im crap and i apologize.


	7. Chapter 7

Two weeks down, one week to go. One week until the bonding period is over and you, inevitably, leave.

Sans can already tell you’ll leave a void behind you when you go. He hates how well you fit into his life. Like, gods, what a stereotype he’s turning out to be: the die-hard anti-SOULmate activist turned into mush by the appearance of his own SOULmate. 

He hates it, but he can’t bring himself to hate you.

Things have fallen into a kind of schedule. After the day’s activities—usually movies or television, you’re both homebodies and terrible movie enthusiasts to boot—you’ve taken to actually conversing with him. It started out simple—what’s his favorite color, you had asked, and he had given you a withering look and asked, “really?”—but, having apparently run out of small talk, your questions have grown deeper and more probing.

You always start by offering up some personal information of your own. Not really in a contrived, you-give-me-something-I’ll-give-you-something way; you just don’t seem to have any kind of filter. You’re filling up the silence with mindless chatter, something about an offense your friend had committed, when you say offhand, “But then again, I never really know whether they’re actually being rude or whether I’m just reading too much into things. I can’t really rely on my own mind when it comes to stuff like that. I mean, I had a therapist who said I was letting people walk all over me because I was too afraid to say anything, but I can’t help but think it’s my fault anyway.”

“you see a therapist?”

“I used to a lot more than I do now, but yeah, sometimes. I have a list of issues a mile wide, are you really surprised?”

He chooses to ignore that question, instead responding with, “i used to see a therapist too, back when we came topside.”

“Not anymore?”

“i stopped going a long time ago. they hurt more than they helped. i mean, i’m like this now because of them.”

Your eyes narrow, and you lean back into the couch. “Like what?”

He hesitates before responding, but it’s not like it’s anything he hasn’t talked about with people before. Papyrus knows, obviously, and Toriel. “like…angry all of the time. i used to be pretty chill, you know.”

Your lips curve into a small smile. “Chill?”

“yeah. my old therapist said i internalized a lot of crap. like, stuff would make me sad or anxious or whatever and i’d just pretend none of it got to me. i joked around a lot to cover up. took a lot to make me break.”

You’re silent for a moment. “So, what happened?”

He shrugs. “when the barrier was broken and we came to the surface, i started having these nightmares. Papyrus read some crap online about PTSD and made me go see a therapist. at first we just worked on the nightmares, but then somehow we got on the topic of my repressed emotions and she told me it wasn’t healthy and that i should try expressing my emotions more. she said she thought a lot of it went back to my insecurity, like, that i didn’t feel i was worthy of having opinions or feelings. we worked on it for a while, but as soon as i stopped thinking i was completely worthless, i just got…mad. at anything and everything. it freaked me out because i had no idea how to control it. i still don’t. and i got pissed off that i was this giant ball of rage now and pissed off that my therapist had, like, unlocked this side of me i never wanted to see, so i stopped going. the end.”

He hadn’t really meant to go off like that, but to his surprise, you’re nodding. “I totally get it. I went through that phase for a while too. But then a depressive episode hit me like a bus and now instead of being a ball of rage I’m like this gigantic bundle of complete apathy.”

“yeah?”

“Uh-huh. I still get sad and angry and nervous, but everything is pretty muted. Like, I feel an emotion and then I just get so tired and it’s like…why should I even bother? Why should I bother feeling any of these things when none of it matters? Being angry gets me nowhere, being sad gets me nowhere. Nothing gets me anywhere. No matter what I do, I’m stuck here.”

This rhetoric sounds all too familiar. He thought exactly the same type of things when he was stuck in the time loop. He’s thought the exact same thing before walking into a hallway, waiting for a small child to come, waiting for… Carefully, he asks, “should i be worried?”

You wave off his concern. “About me? Nah. I’m not actively suicidal at the moment. I’m not a big fan of living, but I’m not going to do anything about it either.” 

He doesn’t know what to do with that information, so he just nods slowly and picks back up the remote to flip to another episode of the cooking show you both like.

\------------

Later that night, after you’ve gone home, Papyrus has returned from work, and they’re both in bed, Sans can’t stop thinking about what you said earlier.

Apathy, huh? It matches your responses pretty well. You didn’t care when you found out you were SOULmated to him, you didn’t seem to care too much when he insulted you, and when he asked you why you stayed it was the same thing. Because you had to. 

But apathy isn’t the basis of a relationship, no matter how much he’s starting to wish that he could have one with you. Not that he’s in love with you or anything ridiculous like that. He still barely knows you. But…a friendship, maybe, something more than a ‘mutually beneficial arrangement’. And while he’s not going to blame you for your lack of caring, he’s not going to take advantage of it either. It’s not fair to you. 

It’s with a heavy SOUL that he gets out of bed and calls Alphys. (He knows she’ll be awake; she doesn’t exactly keep regular hours.)

“hey, Alphys, you know that thing i asked you about? how’s it coming along?”

He can hear the confusion in her voice. “Well, fine, but…I thought you two were getting along? Why—“

He cuts her off. “it’s just better like this, is all. do you think it can be ready by next week?”

“I…yeah. Yeah, sure, Sans.”

“okay. thanks. goodnight, Alphys.”

He gets back in bed and stares at the ceiling.

Two weeks and one day down, six days to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have delicately split my own therapeutic experience into two and portioned out one half to sans and one half to reader-chan
> 
> in reality, i am some kind of abomination, a mixture of extreme anger and complete apathy
> 
> but yeah i tried to explain a bit why sans is ooc in this fic? i mean its partially bc im a crap writer but it is also partially for this reason so. lol yeah

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is at anuninterestingperson if you want to talk to me about anything. and thank you so much, as always, for reading!


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